


Order and Chaos

by Hanari502



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8409715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanari502/pseuds/Hanari502
Summary: She was perfect and he hated it





	

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome one and all to ficland. My name is Hanari and i'll be your author this evening.
> 
> If my name looks familiar to you, it probably is maybe? I had originally written Hi My Name Is Junkrat And Welcome To Jackass, but after going through the story I didn't really like what I did with it or where it was going so I deleted it. I don't know if I'm going to remake it or if i'm going to leave it dead or not. We'll see.
> 
> That being said, this story is for Profitmargin on tumblr. Because honestly we need more of this ship.

Junkrat didn’t think the word ‘perfect’ was something he could ever apply to a person.

Bombs, absolutely. Anything that went ‘BOOM’ was automatically perfect. Loud explosions that left people screaming and damage in their wake were flawless in his eyes. The feeling of the earth quaking combined with the metal tang of blood and steel flying through the air gave him a high unrivaled by anything else in the world. If he was able to put a cherry on top of a bang, he would. A cherry bomb. Because the world could always use more bombs.

The omnium blowing up would have been perfect, if he could have seen it firsthand. A bang that big with the ability to completely obliterate any semblance of humanity within a 500 mile radius surely must have been phenomenal. Though, the carnage that it left behind was the terrible kind of carnage. The kind that left _him_ scavenging to patch a life together for himself until every bounty hunter in the country wanted his head on a plate. Several caught him several times. Wanted him to talk and spill where he hid his treasure. He talked alright, but it wasn’t about treasure.

He lost his leg for talking, but it was worth it to keep them away from his goods.

Raids went well but they weren’t perfect. Never perfect. Things would blow up and he’d be happy about it, but sometimes there were just _too_ many cops in one spot. Sometimes they would get cornered and have to fight their way out with nothing but his bear trap and whatever Roadhog could get his hands on to shovel in his gun at the time. Sometimes Roadhog’s chain hook broke. The chain part, not the hook part. The hook part never broke and it was a miracle. He thanked whatever genius that made it every day of his life, since it usually saved it several times. His life, not the genius. He’d been pulled out of danger by that hook more times than he could count. Usually when things went the opposite of perfect.

Roadhog wasn’t perfect, but he was great. The best investment Junkrat could have ever put half of his everything in. Big, strong, bloody scary, murderous. All things he could appreciate in his line of work which, really wasn’t work as much as it was just causing havoc at every presentable opportunity. Daily. Usually daily.

Or, well, it used to be daily. Up until Overwatch reigned him in.

Said he could do whatever he wanted as long as he worked for them. Offered decent pay, a solid place to sleep, showers, food, the works. As long as he ‘stay in line’, whatever the fuck that meant. It was a good deal.

The food was better. Not perfect, but better. Edible. Tasted like things other than ‘burnt’ and ‘garbage’. The cafeteria was stocked, somebody was always making something. Food was one of the only things that lured him out of his room the first few months he stayed with them. In most cases it lured everyone out, which made him nervous. That many people grouped together in a small space for that long couldn't have been good for anyone. Where he came from they usually broke out in an argument of some kind that turned into a fight. Usually someone died. He didn’t feel like dying.

The base was almost perfect, if it wasn’t for all the curious shitgibbons that kept trying to talk to him in the beginning like they knew him. Trust didn’t come easy, it had to be earned. Just because the overwatch team (or what was left of it) hired him didn’t mean they were automatically his friends. They tried though, god bless the poor bastards. Them and their bleeding hearts. Sometimes they would walk in on him in the training grounds and try to talk to him, finding common ground in strange places. Mostly weapons and a mutual hate of omnics.

Zenyatta was on his list. Bastion too. Maybe Genji, whatever the fuck he was supposed to be. He was on mildly okay terms with virtually everybody but those three, for obvious reasons.

And then he met her.

First of all, he didn’t know people could glow. He wasn’t sure if she was actually glowing or if it was the lasting radiation poisoning clouding his vision, but wherever she walked a blue light seemed to follow and he didn’t understand it one bloody bit.

Shiny, was the first thing he thought when he saw her. Gold accents and silky black hair surrounded by that weird blue haze that he had to blink several times to make sure was actually there. From her visor to those weird whachama-turret-things she conjured up with that fancy armored sleeve of hers, she seemed to radiate an air of...something. He couldn’t place exactly what she radiated but it wasn’t the same kind of stuff he radiated. That stuff can kill a person. She looked like she could kill a person, but whereas Junkrat would blow them up, she would take them apart with her light-sucking-vampire-robots in a way that almost looked elegant. He didn’t understand how she did it.

He did, however, understand that she was good at it, and he had a lot of respect for people who were good at their jobs.

Gorgeous, was the second thing he thought. The way she carried herself was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Head held high, shoulders back, walking with purpose in a way that looked like the world would crumble at her feet, but never in her path. She was a woman that could walk to the end of the world and create a bridge to keep going. The way she held herself in front of company, the way she moved her arms to breathe life into machines that weren’t there a second before, the way her dress fell and parted at her hips (And _holy dooley_ what hips she had). Everything about her was pristine, controlled, exact. She was his polar opposite in every conceivable circumstance, but in ways they were the same.

They were both meticulous in the way their own creations worked. Junkrat often saw blueprints on her table in the workshop. He had to share it with her and Torbjorn, and they all kept to their sides. That didn’t stop him from wandering when nobody was around, though, and looking at all the stuff she kept on her side. Everything was labeled, filed away in neat order. White desk, white papers, organized, not a single thing out of place. It radiated her very essence and he basked in it.

Not for too long though, or she’d know he was there.

He talked to her frequently, mainly so he could hear the sound of her voice. If he were to describe it, it would be smooth and sharp. A melodic tune that held an edge in her staccato that said ‘cross me and you will pay’. It terrified him a little bit, the potential she had. When she laughed it was cynical, but soft. He heard her laugh once and it was music to his ears. He almost missed it. He was glad he didn’t.

It infuriated him sometimes, how her mere existence seemed to radiate perfection and how he never did. Their worlds were too far apart and he hated it. What kind of god would place a woman like that in front of him just to dangle her on a string with the premise of ‘you’re not good enough for her’ hanging over his head like a death sentence. A dickhead, that’s what.

He found refuge in the moments where she didn’t seem to despise him. Everything about him infuriated her too, he noticed. From his unkempt appearance to his nearly barbaric behavior, he was everything she was not, and  as much as it pissed him off, it made her mad too.

He thought it was funny. Funny and cute.

She didn’t push him away, though. Oh no. She understood that teamwork was essential to making lasting connections and bettering the world. She was one of those people. The kind that wanted to better the world. He appreciated that, even if he didn’t give a rats arse about it.

(Get it? Rat’s arse? ‘Cause he’s a….nevermind.)

She talked to him, engaged in technical conversation. Occasionally she would ask about his bombs and how he managed to make them ‘out of unsavory materials’. He offered to show her once and she turned up her nose, saying politely how she wasn’t interested, and getting up and walking out of the workshop.

He would always watch her go. Wouldn’t take his eyes off of her for a second. (And who would. Once again, those bloody hips)

If Junkrat had to give the word ‘perfect’ to any human being on the face of the planet, Symmetra would wear it like a crown she’d designed herself. She’d hold it high and chuckle that soft, sharp sound and say ‘naturally’ as it vibrated off of her very being. A true diamond in the rough.

He wanted to steal that diamond for himself and run his grubby hands all over it. Hear it scream as it’s perfect world was blown apart with a well timed bang and watch it struggle to piece itself back together. He wanted to rip her pretty dress to shreds, listen to that chuckle turn into a yell and have her begging for him as if he was the only thing that could possibly keep her perfect world together. He dreamed of a day where he would introduce mayhem into her world and shake the very foundation of her being until she craved it over the precision induced world she had become so accustomed to. A day where his name would be uttered as a curse and a blessing from her soft looking lips in her perfect sharp voice.

He wanted one day, _one day_ , where she’d say ‘yes’.

That wasn’t today. Probably not tomorrow.

But he’d wait. He’d wait as long as it would take until she crumbled for him.

She was perfect in every way, and he couldn’t wait to destroy her.


End file.
